An Open Letter To Nathan Fillion

Dear Nathan,

I have loved you deeply, hopelessly, since the  days of Firefly. I'm sure you must be sick of hearing that (or maybe not – love is love, no matter how demented and twisted) but it's the truth. I have the season on DVD and a copy of Serenity. I can also watch you on Netflix on my Kindle Fire from bed, but we better not go there or I won't finish this letter.

And then, there's Dr. Horrible. You're not exactly a Big Damned Hero there, are you? Maybe that was a foreshadowing of things to come.  But still, not only do you look absolutely yummy, you display an intoxicating sense of humor I find irresistible. As in "OMG, I have to get in bed with my Kindle Fire!" irresistible. When you started your gig as Richard Castle, in spite of my abhorrence of ABC's series (with the exception of "Revenge", because that really appeals to my sense of justice – don't be nervous – and "Once Upon A Time" because of Rumple) I followed you there, too. After all, you play a dashing, handsome, and funny writer. And I follow you on Twitter. Some may look at this as a type of stalking.  I prefer to think of it as being a devoted fan.

However, this debacle with the Bloggess has forced me to evaluate our long distance love affair. Oh, it's true – I've flirted with Adam Levine, but he's just a boy when compared to your manliness. My heart has always belonged to you. But when I learned the Bloggess (who is a Goddess of the Funny whereas I'm just a Goddess-In-Training) asked you for a small favor involving twine for over a year and was totally ignored, I had to question just exactly how committed you were to our relationship.

(He's just waiting  to take your spot, Nathan. Yeah, Adam wants some Netta-love.)

Nater-Tater, (that is a brilliant nickname from the Bloggess, except I now have a strangely erotic reaction to potatoes) I am truly disappointed in you. All the poor woman wanted was a picture of you holding twine to stave off the Evil Marketers who stalk her. I figured, of course Nater-Tater would do this! He's a Big Damned Hero! He loves his demented devoted fans! He knows he would be nowhere today without their adulation!                                        

But you didn't.

Others had to step up where you did not. People like Penn Jillette, and Jeri Ryan, and Wil Wheaton. People like Simon Pegg and Brian Boitano, for the love of Baby Jeebus. THOSE are Big Damned Heroes, Nater-Tater. Though I will say, this whole thing led to a picture of Matthew Broderick holding a spoon – which not only makes him cool, it makes him sexy. And I NEVER thought anything would do that.


Those are people who appreciate the funneh, people who remember what their fans have done for them. My defense of your action (or more specifically, NON-ACTION) has weakened because I'm feeling like you just don't care. And that has broken my heart into a million pieces.

I'm sure you have your reasons. Like your quote when asked about it – "I just don't do those kinds of things." Jeezuz wept, Nater-Tater, I don't get this at all. There are pictures of your bare ass all over the internet! Would one lousy picture of you holding an innocuous piece of twine really kill you? Especially if it made people happy? Really?

Dude. YOUR ASS IS ALL OVER THE INTERNET.

It's probably too late to fix this with a picture, but you could try. You could reclaim your status as my Number One Obsession, because I'm sure you're feeling as heartbroken as I am over our rift. You can still Do The Right Thing, whether it's with twine, a spatula, or a spoon. Or even an emery board. If you don't have an emery board, ask the makeup person. I'm sure they have one. Or, if you give me your home address, I can deliver one personally.

*sigh* For years, you have been my Big Damned Hero. Now I have to look for another one. It won't be easy, because you leave big shoes to fill. So, you can cancel that restraining order, because you won't need it anymore. I am still in love with Capt. Reynolds; I still adore the crew of the Serenity, but you, Nathan Fillion, are on my shit list, as much as it pains me to say that and probably pains you to hear it.

In closing, Nater-Tater, we are over. I have to face the fact even though it has been my dying wish (well, I'm not dying, exactly, but eventually I will) to receive a Tweet from you, it is now crystal clear I will never get it. I am now transferring that wish to Adam. Please mark your records accordingly.

In true disappointment,

Your Former Love Slave

P.S. I still retain the right to sleep with Mal Reynolds at night. You can't take that away from me!